abundant redundant thoughts.

It wasn’t the song that reflected the mood of the those crammed in the micro bus. The song had set the listless expressions on their faces – many of whom were looking somewhere out of the window, but not really seeing. Their gazes were lost in the heart-wrenching melody of the sarangi.

ama le sodhlin khai chora bhani…

Like the crooked stitches that held together the khasali dai’s torn pockets, the words of the song stung like needles. Even as more people were being stuffed into the rickety van, this time, no one complained.

chora rudai cha gorakhpur relai ma…

As I write this (in my journal), sitting on the footsteps of Prasuti Griha, a tourist takes a photograph of the dog sleeping next to me – a few steps above me. What fascinates us are entirely different. Her pink mask matches her t-shirt. But we both can smell the stinking garbage; it’s only that I am used to it.

The song I heard on the radio this morning still echoes in my head. It too had taken me somewhere, even long after the ride had ended.


2 thoughts on “abundant redundant thoughts.

  1. you are so darn contemplative.

    it’s a good thing you studied art instead of philosophy.
    visual expressions are so much easier on the eyes than endless typed text.

    i want to see your art aba ta.

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